Page 27 of Soar

Gregori quickly sidestepped around him, snatching the pot up again. “Don’t put it down on the butcher block, it’s still hot!”

He watched as Gregori put the pot under the water, cooling it off, and felt like a failure all over again. Fuuuuuck, this always happened when he got so tired. He just made one stupid mistake after another. It always made people upset with him. For the matter, Salem got upset with himself as well, but he unfortunately lived with himself, too.

Gregori put the pan back down, then crab-stepped to the side to turn off the burner.

Aw shit, Salem should have turned it off. He’d forgotten about it completely.

Only then did Gregori look down at him, confused, his brows drawn down together in an unhappy line.

“It’s okay.” Salem sighed, already turning for the couch. Fuck it, he’d just sleep and scrounge in the kitchen after he took a nap and could function better. “You can leave. I understand.”

“You think I want to leave?”

“Everyone does by this point.” Salem flopped onto the couch—an inelegant sprawl that had nothing to do with dignity. Between talking to Alexis earlier and being reminded of the last ex-boyfriend who had gone off the rails because of stupid shit Salem had done, and now this? When he’d again done something stupid? He honestly felt like crying. Even he wasn’t sure why because there was too much to cry about. “It’s why I don’t do relationships anymore.”

Gregori came in closer, kneeling at his feet and looking up at him. For some reason, he didn’t appear mad. Which made no fucking sense to Salem.

“What happened with previous people?”

Why the fuck was he asking questions? Why wasn’t he just leaving like everyone else had? Salem was an asshole. He’d been an asshole since Gregori had met him, he’d denied they were mates to the man’s face even when he knew those words hurt Gregori, and he’d just shown the man what kind of walking disaster he was when dead tired. Shouldn’t Gregori, even with his vast store of patience, have gotten fed up by now?

Salem thought about not answering, but when he was this tired, he had no filter, so words started pouring out of his mouth.

“They left. I told you. I’m an asshole even on good days, although honestly, I try not to be, but the asshole just slips out. And after dating me for a while—generally takes three weeks—I’ll have a day like today. Where I’m super tired and I can’t focus, and I make one stupid mistake after the next, and they get mad. One boyfriend accused me of weaponized incompetence. Which isn’t true. I do my best at everything. Except dishes because I hate doing dishes?—”

Gregori snorted at this for some reason, like it was funny.

“—and really, who likes doing dishes? Are there people who do? And can I hire them? I will pay them a stupid amount of money to do my dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do your dishes.”

“You will?” Salem smiled, relieved. Then frowned again. “But that means you’re staying. You want to stay?”

“I do.”

“You make no damn sense, you know that, right? Being mates can’t be the only reason for you to put up with me like this. You’re literally the first who wasn’t family. You’re very strange if you want to stay. I do not understand you.”

“Then you can learn more about me as we go. Tell me more about the shitty exes you’ve had. You’ve had at least one break up with you because you did stupid things while exhausted.”

Salem tsked him, wagging a negating finger. “No, no,allof them left because of it. They got tired of cleaning up after me. And because I’m an asshole.”

“Hmmm. I think you were being an asshole to me deliberately.”

“Yeah. So you didn’t get attached to me. I tried telling you, I’m no good as a romantic partner. But you’re stubborn. Are all dragons stubborn?”

“When we find our mates? You bet we are.”

“Nice.” Salem slumped sideways a little, head lolling on the back of the couch. “I bet Dimitri was able to catch Sam by being stubborn. But Sam’s a good romantic partner. He always has been. He’s had more long-lasting relationships than I have. My longest one was three months.”

“Ah-ha,” Gregori murmured, like he’d just been handed some piece of a puzzle and knew precisely where it went. “And when did you stop trying?”

Salem snorted a laugh and sank farther into the couch in the process. Really, the couch was a buddy. Couch would catch him when he fell. “Years ago, man. Years ago. I think it was three months into my residency? Somewhere in there. Boyfriend lost his shit because of some stupid stuff I’d done in my sleep-deprived state, and the next thing I knew, I was out on my ass. Sam came and got me, and I stayed at his place until I was awake enough to drive home.”

“So to recap, you’ve never had a supportive partner who picks up the slack for you when you need it, you’ve had multiple people say you are an asshole?—”

“No, no, I am an asshole. I own my assholery. Is that a word?”

“It is a word, yes, but I don’t think you’re an asshole. I think you’ve been hurt too many times, you internalized it, and now you’re keeping people at bay to avoid being hurt again.”

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